Love Bites Pt 1

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As to human blood- Ah, blood, the whole subject fascinates me. I do like that as well, warm and dripping, when I am thirsty. And I am often very thirsty.

Alisa feeds but does not kill, and she has to maintain her big secret. But when her creator returns to kill her, she must break her own rules to survive. Her quest leads her to Dean. But as she begins to fall in love with Dean, there is more at stake then her own life.

Created by: IcyDesignns

Are you ready for...
Our "When Will I Die" Quiz?

  1. What is your age?
  2. What is your gender?
  1. I am a vampire, and that is the truth. But the modern meaning of the word vampire, the stories that have been told about creatures such as I, are not precisely true. I do not turn to ash in the sun, nor do I cringe when I see a crucifix. I wear a tiny gold cross now around my neck, but only because I like it. I cannot command a pack of wolves to attack or fly through the air. Nor can I make another of my kind simply by having him drink my blood or such. Wolves do like me, though, as do most predators, and I can jump so high that one might imagine I could fly. As to blood- ah, blood, the whole subject fascinates me. I do like that as well, warm and dripping, when I am thirsty. And I am often thirsty.
  2. My name, at present, is Sofia Reyes-just two words, something to last for a couple of decades. But my real name, from birth, Is Lennena (Lena) Frujatti. I am no more attached to them then to the sound of wind. My hair is redish-brown and silklike, my eyes like sapphires that have stared long and hard at lava flowing from a volcano. Before I speak I appear to be only sixteen years of age, but something in my voice-the coolness of my expressions, the echo of endless experience-makes people think I am much older. But even I seldom think about when I was born, long before the pyramids were erected beneath the pale moon. I was there, in that desert in those days, even though I am not originally from that part of the world.
  3. Do I need blood to survive? Am I immortal? After all this time, I still don't know. I drink blood because I crave it. But I can eat normal food as well, and digest it. I need food as much as any other man or woman. I am a living, breathing creature. My heart beats- I can hear it now like thunder in my ears. My hearing is very sensitive, as is my sight. I can hear a dry leaf break off a tree branch a mile away, and I can clearly see the craters on the moon without a telescope. Both senses have grown more acute as I get older.
  4. My immune system is impregnable, my regenerative system miraculous, if you believe in miracles-which I don't. I can be stabbed in the arm with a knife and heal within minutes without scarring. But if I were to be stabbed in the heart,say with the currently fashionable wooden stake, then maybe I would die. It is difficult for even a vampire's flesh to heal around an implanted blade. But it is not something I have experimented with.
  5. But who would stab me? Who would get the chance to do so? I have the strength of five men, the reflexes of the mother of all cats. There is not a system of physical attack and defense of which I am not a master. A dozen black belts can corner me in a dark alley, and I could make a dress fit for a vampire out of the sashes that hold their fighting jackets closed. And I do love to fight, that is true, almost as much as I love to kill. Yet I kill less and less as the years go by because the need is not there, and the ramifications of murder in modern society are complex and a waste of my precious but endless time. Some loves have to be given up, others have to be forgotten. Strange as it way sound, if you think of me as a monster, but I can love most passionately. I do not think of myself as evil.
  6. Why am I talking about all this? Who am I talking to? I send out these words, these thoughts, simply because it is time. Time for what, I do not know, and it does not matter because it is what I want and that if always reason enough for me. My wants-how few they are, and yet how deep they burn. I will not tell you, at present, who I am talking to.
  7. The moment is pregnant with mystery, even for me. I stand outside the door of Detective Mike Riley's office. The hour is late; he is in his private office in the back, the light down low-I know this without seeing. The good Mr.Riley called me three hours ago to tell me to come to his office to have a little talk about some things I might fin interesting. There was a note of threat in his voice, and more. I can sense emotions, although I cannot read minds. I am curious as I stand in this cramped and stale hallway. I am also annoyed, and that does not bode well for Mr.Riley. I knock lightly on the door to his office and open it before he can respond.
  8. "Hello" I say. I do not sound dangerous-I am, after all, supposed to be a teenager. I stand beside the secretary's unhappy desk, imagining that her last few paychecks have been promised to her as "practically in the mail." Mr.Riley is at his desk, inside his office, and stands as he notices me. He has on a rumpled down sport coat, and in a glance I see the weighty bulge of a revolver beneath his left breast. Mr.Riley thinks I am dangerous, I note, and my curiosity goes up a notch. But I'm not afraid he knows what I really am, or he would have not chosen to meet with me at all, even in broad daylight.
  9. "Sofia Reyes?" he says. His tone in uneasy. "Yes" I reply. He gestures from twenty feet away. "Please come in and have a seat." I enter his office but do not take the offered chair in front of his desk, but rather, one against the wall. I want a straight line at him if he tries to pull a gun on me. If he does try, he will die, and maybe painfully. He looks at me, trying to size me up, and it is difficult for him because I just stand there. He, however, is a montage of many impressions. His coat in not only wrinkled but stained-greasy burgers eaten hastily. I note it all. His eyes a red rimmed, from a drug as much as fatigue. I hypothesize his poison to be speed-medicine to nourish long hours beating the pavement. After me? Surely. There is also a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, a pray finally caught. I smile privately at the though, yet a thread of uneasiness enters me as well. The office is stuffy, slightly chilly. I have never liked the cold, although I could survive and Arctic winter night naked to the bone.
  10. "I guess you wonder why I wanted to talk to you so urgently" he says. I nod. My legs are uncrossed, my white slacks hanging loose. One hand rests in my lap, the other plays with my hair. Left-handed, right-handed, im neither, and both. "May I call you Sofia?" He asks. "You may call me whatever you wish, Mr.Riley" My voice startles him, just a little, not even to make him wet himself. And it is the effect I want. I could have pitched it like any modern teenager, but I have allowed my past to enter, the power of it. I want to keep Mr.Riley nervous, for nervous people say much that they later regret. "Call me Delanius, or Dean for short." he says. "Did you have trouble finding the place?" He continued. "No," I replied deeply. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soda?" "No"
  11. He glances at a folder on his desk, flips it open. He clears his throat, and again I hear his tiredness, as well as his fear. But is he afraid of me? I am not sure. Besides the gun under his coat, he has another beneath some papers at the other side of his desk. I smell the gunpowder in the bullets, the cold and deadly steel. A lot of firepower to me a teenage girl. I have a faint scratch of moving metal and plastic. He is taping the conversation. "First off I should tell you who I am," he says. " As I said on the phone, I am a private detective. My business in my own-I work entirely freelance. People come to me to ind loved ones, to research risky investments, to provide protection when necessary, and to get hard-to-find background information on certain individuals." I smile, " And to spy," I say. He blinks hard and deep, " I do not spy, Miss Reyes." "Really?" My smile broadens. I lean forward, " It is too late, Mr.Riley. Tell me what you really want." He shakes his head, " You have a whole lot of confidence for a little kid." "And you have a lot of nerve for a down-on-his-luck private loser." I say, my voice getting uglier. He doesn't like that. He taps the folder on his desk. His voice speaks with fear, "I have been researching you for the last few months, Miss Reyes, ever since you have moved to Mayfair. You have an intriguing past, as well as many investments. But I'm sure you know that." "Really" I reply. "Before I begin, may I ask how old you are?" "You may." "How old are you?" " It is none of your business."
  12. He smiles. He thinks he has scored a point. He does not realize that I am already considering how he should die, although I hope to avoid such an extreme measure. Never ask a vampire her age. We don't like that question. Its very impolite. Mr. Riley clears his throat again, and I think that maybe I will strangle him. " Prior to moving to Mayfair," He says, "you lived in Los Angeles-in Beverly Hills in fact- at Two-Five-Six Grove Street. Your home was a four-thousand-square-foot mansion, with two swimming pools, a tennis court, a sauna, and a small observatory. The property is valued at six-point-five million. To this day you are listed as the sole owner, Miss Reyes." It seems he knows too much. But who gave his this information? Is someone-or something- after me? I answer most truely, and definite. "Its not a crime to be rich." "You are not just rich. You are very rich. My research indis that you own five separate estates scattered across this country. Further research tells me that you probably own as much if not more property in Europe and the Far East. Your stock and bond assets are vast-in the hundreds of millions. But what none of my research has uncovered is how you came across the incredible wealth. There is no record of a family anywhere, and believe me, Miss Reyes, I have looked far and wide."
  13. "I believe you. Tell me, whom did you contact to gather this information?" He enjoys that he has my interest. "My sources are of course confidential." "Of course. Mr. Riley, just give it up. You will die if you don't tell me who sent you." "You would take this all out of my life?" "Something to that effect." He stops laughing, now deadly serious, now that we are talking about death. Yet I keep my smile because death amuses me. He point a finger at me. "You can be sure that if anything happened to me the police would be at your door the same day." "Mr. Riley," I say. "We should not argue. You want something from me and I want something from you. I am prepared to pay you a million dollars, if you tell me who made you aware of me." "No one is interested in you except me." " Someone has hired you to research me, I know that for a fact. Please, don't deny it again, or you will make me angry. Now, for the last time, tell me who pointed you in my direction, and I will give you a million dollars and let you out of here alive."
  14. He stares at me incredulously. His eyes see one thing and his ears hear another, I know. He sees a pretty blond girl with startling blue eyes, and he hears the velvety voice of a succubus from hell. It is too much for him. He begins to stammer. " Miss Reyes," He begins. "You misunderstood me. I mean you no harm. I just want to complete a simple business deal with you. No one has to .. get hurt." I take a long, slow breath. Yet now I let out all the breath before speaking again, and the rooms cools even more. And Mr. Riley shivers. "Answer my question," I say simply. He coughs. "There is no one else."
  15. He has ticked me off. I leap out of my chair with much force that I am momentarily airborne. My right foot lashes out, my heel hitting the center of his breastbones. He falls to the ground as I land smoothly on my feet. His mouth is pouring out blood as he gasps for air. I have crushed the walls of his heart, he will die. "Mike," I say gently. "You would not listen to me. Now tell me who sent you and I will end your pain." He cannot breathe, he drowns in his own blood. He stares at me with wide eyes. "Kaine" He whispers. "Kaine? Is Kaine a man?" I ask. "Yes." "Good. Now, how do you contact Kaine?" "No."
  16. Before I can reply to his simple "No", He dies. I look over and see a photo of him and another boy about 16 years of age. I suspect he is Mike Riley Jr. I later meet this boy, along with his girlfriend Shaolyn (Shae), and another boy that goes by the name Seth. I scrub up all of the Mr. Riley's blood and burry him in the woods about a mile away.
  17. Ok I know this episode was not really "Love like" as said in the title but it will in part 2 or 3.
  18. Please rate and comment. Byee.[:

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